Abnormal Types
by Memaythink
Summary: An episodic series of fights and conversations, low on word count and high on deeply mind-boggling thoughts. Basically a gigantic experiment in atemporal storytelling, visual aspects of writing and possibilities that online fanfiction allows for.
1. Jean

\- I hate kids.

\- Yeah, I kinda do, too.  
\- They're just noisy, ya know? Like, this one brat the other day kept pestering me to give him a plushie. I didn't even know the kid! I think he was autistic or something. What normal person would do that? So of course I kept saying "No" and by that he understood "No, I want you to be more annoying!"  
\- Hah! I get it...  
\- Yeah? Or -Oh!- for example: I have this niece, right? And during a party in my house we had a moment to talk one-on-one. So of course she drops on me all of the meaningless bullshit of her life that she thinks I'd ever care about. "There's this kid that keeps bullying me for liking dancing and he keeps doing things that make the other kids not like me and whenever I ask about something he laughs at me and says it's obvious and blah blah blah...". Jesus CHRIST! I literally felt myself falling asleep in my chair-  
\- Well, I think what she said sounded a bit concerning, she should've...  
\- so of course from then on I kept blowing her off any chance I got. I actually sometimes teamed up with the other kid and pulled off a few pranks with him.  
\- What happened to the girl?  
\- The last time I saw her she looked pretty measly. Apparently she wants to apply for a dance contest, so I plan on stealing her shoes when...

 **SHOT THROUGH THE HEART!**

As they were laying in the middle of a meadow, side to side, the lycanrock was unaware of lopunny's clenched left fist gathering up a mass of kinetic energy. He should've caught on the moment he saw her right hand switching the MP3 player to her Bon Jovi album collection.  
In perfect synchronization, the Focus Punch landed at the singer's first word.

 **AND YOU'RE TO BLAME!**

The second verse echoed in the silence of night, as the earth parted, dust, rocks, bugs and blades of grass flew skyward, scaring off a nearby flock of birds, not to mention waking up half of the forest.

 **You give love... a bad name!**

As if these words were directed straight at the now-spazzing-out nightwolf, Jean smoothly pointed her finger to the struggling mass of pain and confusion, knowing that despite the numbness of his limbs and the ringing in his ears, he's still conscious enough to understand one thing above all...

He done fucked up.

Hi.

My name's Memaythink. Memay for short.  
You might be thinking - "What kind of a Pokemon fanfic starts out in the middle of a friendly conversation suddenly turning into a strangely justified, swift and unexpected punishment?"  
\- "the best kind of fanfic."

Let's back up a bit. And by "back up", I mean explain our main hero's whole life story.

A single life, even the most average and uneventful one, is still filled with thousands of strange little experiences that, in a roundabout way, shape a person into who they are.  
Jean never had the luxury of a simple-to-understand, tragic, one-note backstory. Both of her parents are alive and well. They've tried their damndest to shape her into a functional member of society. Aside from having a cool sibling, there was nothing lacking in her childhood. Certainly nothing that would create a deep-seated psychosis she'd carry into adulthood. Well, maybe there was one:

Her ego was dead.

Bullies are kinda like war-torn zone. Any two people can experience being bullied in mostly the same way and come out with _radically_ different conclusions. One kid would harbor a buried hatred of everyone and everything in the world. Another would see it as a source of motivation, to become better and get one up over the bullies _Yet another_ would live a life of fear and shyness, becoming paranoid of showing weakness or making themselves known in any way. There are ones who would dedicate themselves to stopping bullying by all means necessary. There are the ones who would become bullies themselves, or even come out relatively unscathed, thanks to the support of their family and friends.

Jean's friends _were_ her bullies.

It's not like they had no reason to pick on her. Little Jean had a very short temper, a hatred of being laughed at behind her back or pushed out of any group activity. She took herself _way_ too seriously, seeing any show of her own weakness as a gigantic embarrassment and reason enough to sulk. And she did show her weaknesses. A lot. Being born with the Ability Klutz is like the ultimate middle finger from Arceus. Jean was impressively forgetful, aloof and unaware of her surroundings, unable to pick up on most social cues, developed an aversion to physical contact of any type, a strange, unconventional personality and generally no reason to have any close friends at all.

But it all changed one day...well it was more of a few years of gradual changes. She met an experienced Trainer that found her generally useful for low-level Contest teams and kept her around for many years, at first thanks to her results, later on for their matching personalities and...  
A lack of a good partner of the opposite sex.

As if you wouldn't.

Anyways, the greatest change having a Trainer brought to Jean's life was the discovery of a little thing knows as...

T

You see, I left out one other tidbit about the cream-colored rabbit's childhood - she loved to dance. And she was damn good at it. Whenever Jean heard a song she had an even mild admiration for, it was as if her body started to move on it's own, almost mechanically, yet visibly triggered by instinct. She didn't just bop up and down to the beat of the song, her hands and legs did weird, specific and, on some level, fitting movements that accompanied the most specific of notes.  
However, this uncanny ability wasn't discovered in her for a very long time. It demanded a very specific set of circumstances to be performed:

1\. She had to be drunk. Out. Of. Her. Mind. Without suitable alcohol density her conscience _will_ just physically prevent her from performing the most interesting of her moves.

2\. Jean has to have heard the song at least once and liked it. Seems obvious, but considering her very specific taste in music, this can become a bit of a burden for any DJ who would want for the Lopunny to drop some sick moves on the dance floor, only to realize nothing on his playlist is able to "turn her on", for lack of a better word.

1b. She has to be alone. This refers both to when she's putting on a pair of headphones, giving all her heart and soul to a phantom audience of her own room in the middle of the night, _as well as_ when she needs a bit of space and no dance partner in the middle of a disco crowd. If you try dancing together with her, you'll either be confused by her rapid movements or bored that she doesn't know anything aside from the basics partner dancing.

With time, these caveats became more and more liberal, as she kept learning new dance moves and songs. Jean was now more laid-back, willing to be more open and honest about her weaknesses, willing to go with the flow and oh yeah that whole death of ego thing turned out to be pretty useful after all

While Jean never had any favorite genre and her tastes stayed pretty eclectic, her trainer loved nothing more than 70's funk and motown. As such, she didn't share a ton of her own favorites with him, knowing he'd find most of them questionable.

By the way, I lied. Jean did have a genre that imbued her with more wonder, excitement and joy than any other. Mashups. Neil Cicierega, the youtubers Triple Q, Cyrakek and BotanicSage, she even considered Walter Murphy's "A Fifth of Beethoven" to be an early part of that movement. Of course, she didn't blindly like anything that fell into that category. In her mind, creating a good mashup, or even an interesting one, demanded a very specific mindset. Being able to find a way for two songs to work with each other is no easy feat. It demands a fundamental understanding of what music is, which parts of it affect people universally and what formulas have repeatedly appeared in it's history.  
In a way, a mashup is perfect evidence that all songs, heck, all art is fundamentally the same. While an artist will try to put tangential details that differentiate his creations from those of others, the fundamental message he'll try to send will always be this:  
"This is how I understand myself and how I fit into society"  
Well, okay, it's not all art. Just, like, most of it, right?  
One of Jean's biggest flaws is that she has a tendency to overgeneralize things. She's very aware of it, often times not believing words that come out of her own mouth _as she is speaking them_. Maybe due to her desires for "a simple life" and a preference for instinctual understanding over _actual_ understanding, Jean reflexively tries to sum up any new information gained to it's most basic components, disregarding the details.

Speaking of details, the world our main hero inhabits is a pretty strange one in enough of itself. It can be summed up as such:  
The real world, with the same history and culture we have, but Pokemon have replaced both animals and humans.  
This only raises more questions, doesn't it? Well, let's answer them all.

"What about Berries?"  
They're all blatantly based on fruit. Everyone eats fruit.

"Do Pokemon eat each other?"  
The don't call themselves Pokemon. They're all just people to each other. And yes, the strong eat the weak. Technically everyone has feelings and a soul(you think animals don't?), but it doesn't stop us and it won't stop them.

"Why are there no humans when you mentioned a Trainer?"

You think there aren't any mons smart enough to take on a tactician/leader role? C'mon.

"Do the Pokemon games exist in that world?"

Yes, they're a long-standing series of extremely realistic RPG's. Still, the turn-based combat system is considered a watered-down abstraction of the real thing.

"Why didn't you capitalize 'Lopunny' and 'Lycanrock'?"

Do you capitalize 'wolf' or 'bunny'? Or 'animal'? Or 'cage'?

"How did their culture and history turn out exactly the same as ours?"  
Suspension of disbelief. If there are technically infinite universes, there exists one that turned out just like that. If you have a problem with that, thank you and goodbye.

 **And from now on I'll (hopefully) keep my tangents to the author's notes and away from the main story. This first chapter is a bit of a mess and apparently much shorter than this site's average (about 5000 words/ch, jeez). I'm also aware this is technically a songfic, which isn't allowed on Fanfiction, but I'm apparently also kinda on the legal boundary? Leave reviews plz**


	2. Mickey

I believe letting your own survival instinct guide you is a good thing. Everyone has it, after all. Right? Well, maybe plants don't have a "direct" one, but they still propagate, don't they? I mean, I'm partially a plant and that part of me doesn't like dying as much as my kangaroo part. Or my boxer part. Or my mimic part. Maybe I'm not willing to give my instincts up before understanding what I'm supposed to _be_.

No, that's not right. Not once did I ever try to understand why I was born a genetic mutation, an anomaly that our current understanding of biology was unable to explain. Ironically, my life was mostly composed of fights, over half of which ended up in me fainting, yet contributing enough to my team's effort that I somehow still managed to win.

Did you know fainting due to combat-sustained injuries shortens your life expectancy?

Then again, I always found fighting strangely alluring.

My next opponent is apparently pretty well-known, despite having lost a considerable number of fights. All her previous opponents were surprised by the amount of background research she did on every single one of them. Listening to their interviews left a very strange feeling in me. They spoke of her warmly, like someone who dropped into their lives at just the right time and place. A ton of people she fought made notable changes to their future battle strategies, sometimes even lifestyles.

After a bit of digging I found an article that brought up many various counters to her usual strategies. I considered reading it, but...

The thought of sacrificing my recovery options terrifies me.

How many times have I stepped into this very ring? Risking my own long-term health for nothing more than an average payroll. Seeing the colosseum seats filled to only about 20%. The rust on the walls, the flickering monitors, the general wear and tear of every single thing present, even the spectators and judges...

Do you sometimes get these _lucid_ moments? You almost see yourself from the third person perspective, look at the objective truth of where you are, what you are and what you're doing.

I looked at my hands and almost automatically remembered the last time I looked at myself in the mirror. The unnatural red/white coloration of my body, the distinct shape of my head and hands that helped me ambush more than one unsuspecting thief hiding out in the woods. I distinctly remembered the seeds that adorned the tip of my tail. When launched with Leech Seed, they took the same shape as my hands.

A rush of thoughts passed my head like a blink. A familiar chime ended my trance, filling my body with mental focus and a physical debilitation.

There is no difference between poison and medicine, other than one of quantity. The Toxic Orb would be a hindrance to any other regular mon, but not me. Without it, I wouldn't find fights so... _addicting_. Ah, if it only activated outside of battle...

I lunge at the figure before me, readying a standard Drain Punch. Weird strategies or not, lopunnies aren't built to take super-effective moves.

 **Aaah**

 **Aaah**

 **Aaaaaaah!**

I missed. She's fast. Timed it to the last second. Why is she dancing?

 **Honestly, what good could it be...**

I feel a terryfying, weak pain all over my body, from the depths of my heart, down to the very tip of my tail.

It's as if every withdrawal period of a drug addict exploded all at once.

One thought surfaces above all others.

Entrainment.

Shit.

Ok, calm down. Leech Seed will-

 **Flames to dust.**

She caught it.

 **Lovers to friends.**

Right in her hand.

 **Why do all good things come to an end?**

She knows. Heavy poison gets worse by the second. She's not scared to wait it out. She knows I aim for longevity, not swift victory. She just used that against me-

FOCUS!

Drain Punch. It's my only option now. One hit and she'll be down.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Synthesis will at least work for now.

Where is she?

 **So that they could dieee...**

She's taunting me.

Shit.

Leech Seed is draining her too, at lea-

Teeter Dance.

Wait, how much health do I even have?

Should I use Synthesis or wait?

Where is she?

If I hit myself, do I still recover health?

Ow.

Ooooooogh.

Synthesis.

"Give up."

What?

"This is a foregone conclusion."

DRAIN PU-AGH!

"The strategy you have won't work if you're alone. Especially now. _Now_ everyone knows your weakness."

SHUT UP!

"I guess you're not in the mood for reasoning? OK. You have 2 options: let the poison finish you or let me do so."

Don't listen. I can still figh-

Teeter Dance.

For the next 15 minutes, Mickey was a writhing, screaming ball of pain. Jean kept dancing, trying to minimize her own health loss and extend the breloom's agony. She lost. 2 stray Drain Punches were enough.

However, in the middle of the fight, she made a strange decision. Having the option to attack the breloom directly, she instead destroyed his Toxic Orb.

What's this?

\- "Your reward for perseverance. A Toxic TM and Leftovers. Ever took part in double battles?"

No.

\- "Any time's a good time to start. Find a good partner and give them the TM. Since I got rid of your drug..."

Hrmm.

\- "...you can use this instead. I also advise switching your moveset a bit. Most Toxic Heal brelooms use stuff like Facade. Most brelooms use Seed Bomb instead of Giga Drain. Swords Dance will be more helpful for you in the long run than Synthesis."

HRMMMMMM...

\- "Yeah, I know. It sucks to have to change your strategies when you've attached so much of yourself to them. It's not like I'm using the most optimal moves either. At the very least don't use a Toxic Orb again. It's bad for your health, dare I say, your _longevity_. Just...be open to change, kay?"

...

\- "Right, so I'll be-"

Why are you helping me? You lost. Why should I listen to you?

\- "You know I would've won if I aimed for your head instead of the Orb. Think about that. Besides, I wanna help you."

Yeah, sure.

\- "Why wouldn't I?"

There's no profit in that. Worse, you're giving away stuff for free.

\- "Tell that to me when you become well-known, powerful, influential, connected and I'll be needing your help. I value friendships more than money."

Jeez-

\- "Oh god how cringey youre so dumb and childish friends are for losers. Heard it all before, man."

...Thanks.

\- "No prob. I'll stay in touch."

 **Send reviews plzkthxbye.**


	3. Seth

Not all Pokemon are born fighters.

Whether due to pure physical weakness, competitive unviability or personal preference, there are many mons that take up the job of a Contester. Unlike battling, in this profession the only thing determining your success is your own movepool and how creatively you use it. Contests are the fundamental part of Pokemon culture. It is how talented artists, musicians and other creative folk can express their feelings to the entire world, show their value and emotionally connect with their audience. The concept has expanded greatly throughout the years, as creators experimented and questioned the rules of what a Contest even is.

Does it need an audience? If everything else is in place, but there are no people to see it, even if the performance is amazing, does it count?

Does it need to resonate with the audience, or should it be worthwhile enough in itself because the Contester has expressed their own feelings?

Does it need to be on a stage? When you throw out the need for an audience, the place of the performance shouldn't have any more significance, right?

Should the performance be temporary in nature, or should there be measures taken to preserve it's beauty?

Does there exist a need for judges, when the quality of a piece is purely subjective and the wrong kind of judge might, ironically, 'misjudge' a piece that could resonate with millions if looked at just a bit differently?

While some people might instinctually gravitate towards certain answers, no honest Contester could say that they have a definite solution.

The sound of a slightly rusty doorbell rings through a small, cozy bar. Generic jazz gently grazes the guest's ears. A small, slender figure shyly rummages to the counter. She sits next to a peculiar-looking medicham. At first Jean notices the lack of oversized lips and a distinct, swirly yellow pattern on her baggy pants. Upon ordering a drink and taking a look at her neighbor's beverage to come up with a conversational ice breaker, another detail catches her eye - unmistakable for the liquid's distortions, all of the stranger's five fingertips are oversized, with pink circles on the insides. While the other differences seemed innocuous, this one is too noticable to not spur Jean's mind into speculation. Upon closer inspection, the glass held in the medi's hand seems the most suspicious. It's almost "Hey, mind introducing yourself?"

\- "OH! Right. Sorry. It's Jean."

\- "Li. Who're you here for?"

\- "The Ledian. All I saw of him were Youtube vids, but he looks really promising."

\- "Don't know a thing about him. I'm here for the Gardevoir."

\- "*sigh*, everyone always is."

\- "*SIGH*, what are you, a hipster?"

\- "The worst kind."

\- "Ooooh nooo."

They laugh in that way where they already feel comfortable around each other, but aren't yet capable taking on an entire barfight, staring down pissed off veterans, standing back to back against impossible odds...for being too loud. Yeah, it happens. A lot. Or maybe not. You'll never know~. Go out into the real world to learn about that kinda stuff. Don't rely on me as a source of information. Don't be a mareep. Take the red pill.

The lights of a small, crummy stage dimmed and a small figure walked up to it's center. With a formal, slightly nervous, yet excited tone he spoke to the mic.

\- "Please enjoy the show"

He took to the air with a burning hiss that was drowned out by the first notes of Urszula Dudziak's well-known "Papaya".

 _Talalalala!_

In sync with the singer's gibberish, clones of the original ladybug flew out in every direction, as if they were behind him all the while. The first 2 inner circles had them appear all at the same time, while the outer ring was created one-by-one, to match Urszula's change of tone. During the second verse(?) the ledians turned on their Tailglows, changing the color of their pseudo-jetpacks's flames, all in accordance to the rhythm, just like in the previous verse. At the third repeating of the "refrain", they did the same to their arms, using Fiery Dance to put them on fire, creating a web of multicolored dots.

The fourth repeat made the bugs start to rapidly circle each other, creating concentric rings of fire with their pure speed.

A sudden tempo shift to Dudziak's, for lack of a better word, "solo", made the outer ring of ledians scatter randomly, before going back to their place. The same took place with the second and first rings, until the central ledian flew with more velocity and finesse than all of them combined.

From then on, describing the lightshow would be impossible in less than a whole book. From ledians creating distinct shapes out of their formations, to downright psychedelic flurries of multi-colored flames, to the finale, wherein they flew to the edges of the stage, leaving a ton of empty space, before using Fiery Dance to throw multi-colored embers at each other, catching the ones lobbed by others, almost like a juggling act.

\- "Seems inspired by Itano Missile Circuses, right?"

-"Shh!"

As the song slowly faded out, so did the flames, burning out one by one until the last one was thrown upwards by the main ledian and exploded like a small firework.

This level of quality was _not_ expected by the customers. The only reason people weren't enthusiastically cheering on was because all of their jaws were floored by second 5. While a normal curtain call would start once the performance ends and last for about a minute, this one had a delayed beginning and _no end._

After running away from the scary herd of new fans and hiding in a back alley, Seth could finally sigh in relief. This show was supposed to be his magnum opus, his first step into the life of a Contester, but while he already stole the audience's hearts, he was worried, due to the fact he didn't notice any recognizable Trainers or Contesters that he could exchange contact info with.

After coming back home, he found an unfamiliar girl standing in front of his doorway, almost as if she was waiting for him. He was surprised by her dedication, considering that he went back home over 3 hours after ending the show. Once they made eye contact, her body language quickly shifted from "god-how-much-longer-do-I-have-to-wait" to "oh-hi-there-I-was-just-passing-by-I-didn't-notice-you-there".

\- "Heya. Sorry if it seems creepy to go to your house when you're not there-"

\- "It is."

\- "Yeah, again, sorry. Anyways, I just wanted to congratulate you on the show and- *achoo!*-... ask if you wanted to do a show together sometimes?name's Jean, by the way."

-"Seth. You're that dancing lopunny, right? I remember that you're one of the people who also do battles, even though you apparently lose a lot."

\- "Um, it's a...side hobby?"

\- "Whatever. I'm just really tired right now. You could've just sent me an email. My address is public, you know."

\- "REALLY? Oh man, I should've checked more thoroughly. Well, either way I would've chosen to wait for you here."

\- "Why-"

\- "Well, anyways. Here's my info. Let's go out for coffee sometime!"

And so, Jean caught a nasty cold for a whole week, just to impress a single amateur with her perseverance, managing only to weird him out with her aloofness. Yeah. I guess confusing people is the thing she's the best at.

 **review and cnstrctv crtcsm only plz kthxbye.**


	4. Camille

Not all pokemon are born fighters. Especially delcattys.

Most "low-tier" mons usually pick Contests, shopkeeping, management, or hundreds of other available professions to dedicate their lives to. Not this one.

Camille is ...below average, to be honest. She doesn't have the cute charm necessary for contests, nor talent or optimal training needed for maximum battle efficiency. She had a normal type of childhood as a skitty, but her evolution turned out to be more of a curse than a blessing. She was suddenly thrust into the world of adulthood with almost no defining skills to make her stand out and fit in. A single word keeps echoing in her head to this day:

Parasite.

She wasn't only a burden. She wasn't only a joke, like a magikarp or a feebas. It wasn't that she was unhappy. From a certain perspective, you could easily call her a spoiled brat. She didn't put in enough hard work, nor was she born with insane amounts latent talent. She didn't have any idea how to fulfill her dreams of being a fighter, yet she was terrified of facing reality and picking a less glamorous job.

And she knew it. She was aware of it all. As such, "parasite" seemed like the most fitting word to describe her state.

While Camille always remembered to try and keep up a cheery facade (ironically enough, she didn't know the move, nor the social skill), deep in her heart she knew how worthless and destructive her actions were. She knew she was given more chances than people better than her and that she didn't capitalise on them. She knew she had no idea what she wanted to do with her life. Maybe Camille would've continued her pathetic battling career until the bitter end. Or maybe she would've given up halfway.

Foolishly and desperately, she hung up a partnership proposal both online and in her nearest colloseum. On the next day, she wanted to take it down to prevent any further embarrassment, but something very, very strange happened.

Someone accepted it. All they wanted in return, was an introductory battle.

Usually, Camille would've taken it as some caterpie kid wanting her to beat up his oppressors, but the addition of an intro battle was something weird, something she had never seen, a signal that no matter who accepted this invite, they would treat her as an equal, not cannon fodder or bully pesticide. Still, this could just be a prank. Yeah, this was definitely a prank. She could imagine some pangoro standing against her in the colloseum and decimating her before throwing her into a garbage can and laughing about it with his "bros". Camille was 99,[9]% sure it was gonna be that way. Yeah. Definitely that.

More desperate and foolish than she ever was in her life, the delcatty stands alone in the middle of a moonlit colloseum. She's decided that even if it turns out to be a pangoro, she'll just attempt to provoke him enough so that he at least tries to kill her and she'll be responsible for locking up a bigger parasite than herself. It's the least she could do. Perfectly on time, the respondent steps up to the stage, from the same exit Camille did. Choosing to provoke the ruffian before he incapacitates her, which would lead to a small chance of her survival, the delcatty launches forward with an improvised tackle. She's surprised that her future killer is more slender and nimble than she'd expect, but beggars aren't choosers.

Once she opens her eyes, aiming for another tackle, she finds that her enemy is a lopunny. "I guess bullies come in all shapes and sizes nowadays. Let's provoke her with a Substitute ... and I guess they do a dance before demolishing their victims. This is weird. Ok, let's try my only real attacking move."

Leaving the makeshift doll behind, Camille digs through the dirt she's gotten so used to and aims for the bunny's back.

Jesse jumps up, ending her Focus Punch's charge successfully and aiming it directly at the contented delcatty's face, before doing a mid-air 180 turn, bouncing off of her opponent and sending the strike straight towards the substitute, ripping it and half the stage to shreds.

Camille didn't know people with a deathwish can still be surprised by anything, but here she was, with a jaw dropped as far as her soft, feminine facial features could allow. Jean stared at the dust cloud for either a fraction of a second or five whole minutes. For the first time in her life, Camille lost her sense of the passage of time.

\- Why do you wanna die?

\- What?

\- You know Protect. You could've saved yourself back then, but didn't. Why?

\- Wha-why should I tell that to you? You were gonna kill me anyways, right? WHY DIDN'T YOU KILL ME?

\- The offer you posted was for an ally. I guess it actually read "assassin."

\- Oh. Right.

\- Yeah.

\- Shoot.

.

.

.

\- Tell me something.

\- Huh?

\- Do you think lopunnies are weak?

\- Wha?

\- Honest answer, I won't hate you. They're weak, aren't they?

\- Um, I guess...Yyyyyyyeaaaaah...

\- And yet I razed half of this stage with one punch. If you knew Giga Impact, you could easily do that too, right?

\- Well...

\- And yet some pokemon that are considered "strong" can't do it. A wobufett is considered incredibly powerful, but it can't do anything more than launch attacks back at opponents.

\- Well, yeah, but...

\- And another thing. If I didn't do a background check on you and knew ahead of time you had Wonder Skin, I would've followed my usual strategy of trying to confuse you before using a Focus Punch. I would've given you many chances to attack me and you could've won.

\- ...

\- You see? You think power and victory are just about strength of attacks, but that's simply not true. You run away and try to protect yourself as much as you can, hoping for a miracle, but it'll never happen. You know Baton Pass. Why haven't you tried Double Battles earlier?

\- Why should I?! I'm weak! I'm useless! There's apparently tons of mons that can do it much better than I ever could, SO WHY SHOULD I BOTHER?!

\- BECAUSE YOU DESERVE HAPPINESS, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!

Do you think I'm a valuable, contributing member of society? How many people do you think are like that? If there existed a prerequisite amount of "worth" needed to ask something of others, society just ... wouldn't exist! Look, I don't care if you're the best at what you do. Not even whether you're good or bad at it. You're better at it than me. That's enough reason for me.

\- ...

\- Sorry. I usually don't blow up on people like that. I'm ... I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have to butt in on your issues-

\- No, no, it's okay. I just ... I need to think about this more.

\- Well, alright. *exhausted gasp*. C'mere, hun.

Jean embraces Camille in a friendly hug. At first the delcatty flinches, but once she feels the bunnys warm, fluffy body, she embraces her as well.

\- It's gonna be alright. Just come back home and take a small break. I'll be at the colloseum in the morning, we'll figure this out, OK?

\- *sniff* OK.

* * *

 **Oh, so that's how you do horizontal lines. I hope by now you understand the "feel" of this story and warmed up to it enough to keep going. If not, please write a review and let me know your issues with it. Thanks.**


	5. Cleaning Up

\- What are you doing?

# Cleaning up the place. I can't believe how much dust you've gathered up in here. You said you were allergic, so I have no idea why you wouldn't be pedantic about this.

\- _Used to_ be allergic. Once I started exercising, it almost completely disappeared. Besides, it's just dust. It's not hurting anybody.

# Do you think anyone would want to come here if they knew how it looked?

\- I don't even invite anybody over. You guys were the first ones to come here in, like, years. Even I don't spend much time here. Really only nights and meals-

# Just shut up. C'mon, start by sweeping the shelves.

\- You know it's gonna get just as dusty in a week?

# And while you're at it, get rid of all these dewpiders.

\- **NEVER. ABSOLUTELY NEV-**

# Do you want for _anyone_ to treat you seriously?

\- Listen, I keep them on purpose an I have been doing so for over 3 years. They catch parasites that try to munch on the plants -no offense, Seth.

The ledian jolts up and tries to hide the nibbled leaf behind his back.

(What else would you want me to eat?)

\- ... they keep all of the plants watered...

# OH, so you're too lazy to even do _that_ yourself?!

\- If they weren't there, I _would_ do it myself! It's not hard! It's just an unnecessary waste of time.

# Oh no, I'll have to sacrifice all of my precious _5 minutes_ a day! What will I ever do ~

\- It's 5 minutes I could spend on doing _literally anything_ more productive-

# Yeah, like 5 minutes of unnecessarily losing battles-

\- IT'S 5 MINUTES EVERY SINGLE DAY UNTIL THE DAY I FUCKING DIE!

(Whoa, girls, calm down-)

\- NO! I WILL NOT COMPROMISE ON THIS!

.

.

.

Everyone wastes so much time. So much money. And energy. Unnecessary talks, visits, money spent on gas and oil, doing groceries for fruit and vegetables you could easily grow yourself, buying gadgets you don't need and are never going to use, cleaning up your home when I spend 90% of my life outside of it, like a _normal person,_ working for more and more money that only brings more problems and less happiness, mowing your useless lawn, being invested in celebrity culture, TV, and social media, participating in worthless, unchanging, neverending political wars!...

Do you know how short life really is? I'm already almost 20 years old. That's about 1/4th of my whole, entire life. Already gone. And...when i think about what I've done? What I managed to achieve? _It's almost nothing._ By the time I'm 30 I'll probably be unable to change my future or career in any way. By the time I'm 50, my body will start to deteriorate. Whatever I used to do, I'll be doing it worse. And then, for over 1/4th, maybe even 1/3rd of my life, I'm going to be a useless vegetable that does nothing more than just exist. I'll be a societal parasite, whether I like it or not. And then I'll be worm food. I have less than 30 years' worth of full happiness left. Why the _fuck_ should I waste them on cleaning up for people I WON'T BE INVITING TO MY HOUSE, BECAUSE MY HOUSE IS THE LEAST IMPORTANT PART OF MY LIFE!?

.

.

.

#... this isn't _about the cleaning._

 _-_ THEN WHAT?!

# Responsibility. Taking care of your surroundings. Doing the things you might find tedious or boring so that it could teach you commitment and perseverance.

\- They're the same thing, you don't have to repeat it.

# It's just... I'm not gonna tell you how to live your life, but maybe there's a reason _beyond_ your understanding as to why people kept on doing these things like cleaning-

\- Ey, proper language! I clean up stuff when it's dirty or it smells, I'm not some animal!

# Right. But, you know, maybe there's a reason why people "waste" their time dusting?

\- Oh, I know why. They wanted to show off to their neighbors just how rich and cool they are. They dusted off things just to make them shine and made their dumb animal brains go: Shiny=gold=rich. And besides, allergies didn't exist until, like, the XXth century-

# FINE. Never mind me. Shutting up now.


	6. Good Coffee Is The Meaning Of Life

\- Goddamnit, I remember I had this really, really good coffee here. It was like... perfect in every single way. It wasn't even good or tasty, but just ... unimprovable.  
Like, first off, it's pretty cheap, 5 zlotys. Oh, right. That's about a dollar. You get these shitty coffe shops like Costa or Starbucks and it's 15 zlotys minimum, it's too big and fancy, it's way too fucking sweet and it's always a hassle to ask the people working there to not give you milk or sugar or caramel or whatever else they add to this shit. The medium size in 1 minute was the perfect size, while the ones in these american shops are always bigger because of course they are. When you compare their loyality cards, it's not even a competition. In 1 minute it's 4 cups and the fifth one's free, in these other ones it's about 10. And you know, it makes sense. Their coffee is much more expensive, so it has to be this way. But you know what's another way 1 minute has the ability to lower it's prices? IT ALLOWS THE CLIENTS TO MAKE THE COFFEE THEMSELVES. Now, of course a brewn coffee is always gonna taste better than one from a coffee machine. Really, all I'm saying is that I just have different preferences. But you know what?

This isn't actually about the coffee.

Why do people search for the meaning of life? Really ask yourself that.

# Because they have all their base needs fullfilled and they want to know if there's anything more to life? Because they fail horribly and wonder why they should struggle in a world that doesn't care? There's a lot of reasons.

\- OK, so let's look at only these two for now. Base needs. Why is it that some people are perfectly satisfied once their needs are met and others aren't?

# Boredom? Fear that... that state can end at any moment?

\- Boredom reaches everyone sooner or later. I personally know people who can satisfy it with adding little variations to the same basic life routine. As for fear, I think it's connected to "people failing horribly". On one hand, it's nothing more than wanting to understand and influence the systems that control your life. However, don't you think it's also a way for losers to find a distraction from their own failures? A scapegoat? "It doesn't matter that I personally made some kind of mistake, the world itself is built in some way that made me fail!"

# What's your point?

\- Nothing. Just thinking about answers to the main question. Are there any more reasons?

# I dunno, people think about it because it's important?

\- How?

# Why do I need to answer? You already know! It's connected to your goals in life, your current state, your past...

\- Really? I know people who are pretty well-adjusted and probably never really considered the meaning of it all. Of the things they did, of what was asked of them...

# So your point is that it's useless to think about?

\- Oh, not at all. I believe all knowledge and all introspection is valuable, even if it seems useless or like wasting time. It's all about how you make use of it, but- but that's a conversation all it's own. But do you think that the amount of inner thinking you do is healthy specifically for **you** , at **this** specific moment in time?

# It's not something I can just turn off, you know?

\- Of course. But now that you're aware of that, this thought can now slowly burn itself into your mind and begin the slow process of balancing out your mental state.

\- I don't even give a shit about my mental state! I just want to finally have some kind of a defined role in society! Why should I keep going, when I don't know **where** I'm even going to?

\- Are you sure that your purpose lies somewhere in the future? Why can't it be now? Why can't it be everywhere, i g? Why can't something as basic and insignificant as a good cup of coffe be the meaning of life?

#...

\- Ok, I see you're pretty tired already. Honestly, I am, too. I know that there are a lot more things that led to... how you are right now, but don't worry. We'll just have to tackle them one by one. If you get a day when you really feel like shit, just call me, alright?

# ...*inhale* Ok.


	7. Li

Pacifists don't fight.

Even if their life is in danger.

Even if the lives of other people are in danger.

Even if it kills their family and friends.

Even if they're the only ones who can stop the aggresor.

Not even in self-defense.

Even if there are no other options.

No other options?

What if the pacifist can protect the victim with their own life?

What if the pacifist can wear out the aggresor?

Make him have to run away, because they'd be wasting too much time staying out?

Disable his ability to attack, without direct contact?

Force him to stay defensive in his attacks through your own defensiveness?

Speak to him, try to understand him and calm him down without distracting yourself?

Well, yeah, you can do all that.

But it's hard.

Very hard.

You'll have to train.

Steel your mind and body.

Perfect your techniques until they become second nature.

Get money.

Have financial stability to be able to focus on your training.

Put yourself into many dangerous situations.

Legally.

You'll have to legally be allowed multiple times into those situations.

Legally resolve them, so that the pol-

Police.

Obvious in retrospect, right?

Even individual and police training aren't enough for Li to be satisfied. She needs to put herself in real fights, put the theory to practice. It can't be real fights, for many obvious reasons. That's why she's a regular colloseum battler. Even if she doesn't win and obviously can't change the enemy's mind on winning, she can train her skills.  
A regular training partner and a close friend of hers is a nidoking with a chacteristic drill horn, apparently inherited from his Rhydon dad.

"Hi, Mark."

× Hey. The usual?

"Yeah"

Mark is famous for his grapples and his..."unshakeablility". He agreed to help Li train a few years ago and despite the type matchup, somehow he never fell behind.

He takes a menacing, Folkstyle wrestling stance.

Li takes a standard Judo pose, though her own, personal fighting style doesn't really demand any specific one.  
Neither of them waited for a judge to start the fight. There was none.  
Mark immediatly charges onto Li with as much aggresion as he can muster. He's not worried about hurting her too much.

As he predicted, the moment he started rushing, his hands tucked in, as if he wanted to tackle her, he slowed down just a bit and subconcioulsy became more weary, despite the fact that he tried to attack with as little thought as he could muster.

Li easily jumps over Mark's attack and hops on his shoulders. He tries to throw his hand upward and grab her legs while they're close, but she counters that by jumping on the palms of his hands and bouncing off them faster than he can catch her.  
Li created a bit of distance between them, but got more tired than Mark. She's a bit distracted today.

Mark's horn starts to spin. He's trying to help her focus. She never liked having to deal with Megahorn. Especially now, since Mark was given a moment to get his bearings and jump forward with full strength. Now, his resolve weakening won't be a factor. Li has to deal with this directly.

Detecting the inital action is easy enough. She is more worried about the next one. She might recover from it, but getting hit is never fun.

Mark isn't just here to win. He wants to improve. He wants for Li to improve. He's not gonna keep throwing out "useless" moves.

Sparks of electricity course through Mark's body, congealing into a single point at the tip of his horn. The charge starts to loop around within that small space at rapid speeds, creating a spherical bolt. In an instant, that minature thunder is let loose, and it flies toward the closest conductor possible: Li.

She has time to react, but instead stays, as if the sight of an Electric-type attack was enough to paralyze her. She tries to dodge left, but the current is already locked on to it's target.

The pain isn't excrutiating, but still unpleasant. While normally Li would've been taken to the hospital immediatly, somehow she can nonchalantly recover in no time. She's not worried about any more distractions. Pain is always a good motivator.

She's able to dodge the next bolt. Even though Mark could've used his other attacks, he keeps on fruitlessly using the comparetively weaker Thunderbolt. The battle starts to take on a specific flow. Thunderbolt, Detect, Thunderbolt, Recover, Thunderbolt... Before long, Mark can't generate any more power. Li finally falls to the floor, utterly exhausted. While previously her brainnwas completely focused on **just** surviving, now, after this mind-dumbing onslaught, the first emotion to surface is anger.

x You know that you could've just-

"Shut up. YOU should've told me we were gonna be doing this fucking shock therapy."

x Would a real enemy warn his target?

"This is just training, Mark. Besides, I have no counters to-"

x Thunder Punch.

"Jeeeesus Chriiiiiiiist... *sigh*, You just had to, didn't you?"

x I really don't know what's your problem with it. I wasn't forcing you to attack. You could've used it defensively, to absorb my-

"Yeah, sure. At first I'll use it"defensively", then I'll get accustomed to it, fall back on it when I'm in a pinch, or when I feel like I have no other choices, I won't be scared of attacking with it anymore, I'll start to use it more regularly, it'll feel liberating to finally get rid of this fear, I'll start overusing it and - oh shit - suddenly I'm now the very thing I dedicated my life to stopping. Guess I'll dieeeeee~"

She jokingly falls to the floor from a sitting position, with arms dramatically stretched outward, as if she was playing a character's death in a play.

Li knew that telepathy was completely achievable by anyone, especially Psychic types. It demanded years of dedicated training and the honing of a specific mindset, which made it unappealing to most people, but there were small communities of telepaths and monks who dedicated themselves to the study of this ability. However, she was not one of them.

x ...That aside, your linking was good today.

"I just tried out what we discussed earlier."

x Yeah, but it worked, right? See, all you needed was the defensive stance.

"Yeah, I guess I never really needed to consider it before."

x Besides, I don't remember you being especially good at dodging tackles.

"Anything's easy to dodge if you know that's the only thing the enemy can do."

x I wonder what would've happened if you took a different stance?

"Doesn't really matter. If I know how an attack is going to turn out, all I need is an appropriate kind of dodge for it."

x Yeah, but you could do stuff like...

She points to her head.

"Already in your mind. You don't have to explain.

x Oh, right.

.

It's really weird, cuz you're actually right.

.

" It's strange, isn't it? Like, not being able to understand each other is kinda the fundamental struggle of humanity and the cause of god knows how many wars and conflicts and I just -*whoop!*- throw it out like that.

x It's REALLY weird.


	8. DrunKamille

It's a pleasant winter night. The ring of "The Pubkaboo" 's bell encapsulates the whirr of the wind outside. Cam is sitting by the counter, with a bottle of rum in her... tail-hand. Seth comes up to her and sits next to.

(Hey Cam, do you have a minute?)

# Sure.

(So, listen, I've recently met this...girl and I want to...get to know her. Do you have, like...)

# Love advice?

(Well, it's not lo-)

# Sure, as a fellow "guuuuurl" I can easily help you out. So, what do you want?

(Huh?)

# What do you actually want from her?

(Well, I dunno...)

# Well, if you don't know, then how do you expect **me** to help?

(I don't want anything from her, I just-)

# Oh shut up, yes you do. ~One does not just participate in social contact with no desire for... mutual benefits. Do you wanna go out with her? Just talk casually? Be friends? Have sex? Get rich off of her? Brag about her with your friends? Make a family and have ten babies-

(Stop, STOP! I just wanna get to meet her, that's all!)

# Oh. Then just go up to her and talk.

(Uhmm, but I...I... wouldn't really have anything to talk about-)

# Do you know what her interests are?

(No.)

# Have you tried asking her?

(Well, it's not that easy-)

#Yes it is. Just ask. What is she, a rich girl with a posse of white knights flocking 'round her?

(No, she's just...normal.)

# Have you ever **actually** tried interacting with her?

(Well, that's the thing, I didn't. That's why I'm asking you.)

# Jesus... you're not completely socially inept, are you?

(Wha-)

# Can you talk with other guys about things, like a normal person?

(Yeah, I guess...)

# Then just do that with her. Talk to her when she's not busy with anything else, rattle on for a bit about an innocuous topic that you both know and then just ask directly - "What're you into?"

(Easier said than done...)

# JESUS, FINE, I'll babysit you through this. Imagine that I'm you and you're the girl you wanna be with.

(OK.)

# Ehem... (Hey there, you've got a sec)?

(No.)

# (Oh, sorry then. Let's chat when you have the time, alright? Bye!)

.

(WHAT WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE?!)

# What. She didn't want to talk right now, so you respected that and went on your merry way.

(You're not helping.)

# Listen, I don't really know how guys act between each other, but I'm pretty sure you don't bother someone if they don't want to be bothered. Sounds insane, I know. Unless you **do** want them to have a bad first impression of you. If so, then go on, I'm not stopping you.

(But what if she keeps refusing every time I ask?)

# Then give up. If for some reason she's steadfast on not wanting to know you at all, there's little you can do about that. But the chance that a girl will just be like that is very small. And even then, that means either she's just a dumb bitch and not worth it, or you need to start working on your looks. And believe me, you don't.

(Thanks, I guess?)

# I'm not even talking being handsome. Basic hygene and fitting clothes is enough. Unless, again, she's a rich bitch and not worth it.

(You make it all sound so easy.)

# It really is. You have no idea how many men there are out there, that can't even fullfill these basic requirements. Popular girls have such a big range of choices that you shouldn't even bother, but, ya know,what about everyone else? Believe me, when half of the men you meet are either souless cartboard cutouts, stuttering weirdos, metaphorical pigs, or LITERAL PIGS, seeing someone that's... **relatively** normal is a really nice breath of fresh air. *sigh* That's it. I'm done. Gimmie another drink, as an exchange for this 101 introductory course on human interaction.

(Thanks. Here you go.)


	9. Deep Conversations On The Nature Of Art

Hey.

Hey.

You busy?

Eeh, not really.

Wanna talk?

Sure, why not.

We haven't talked much lately, have we?

Well, we didn't even need to, really.

Right, I guess...

.

.

.

It's really awkward right now. For me. Cuz I actually _do_ have a topic.

(Oh, well then, no problem. What is it?)

\- Alright, so I'll ask this question, and I want you to answer, like, immediately. Without any thinking or consideration. Like, viscerally and automatically. Am I making sense?

(Kinda? I think I get it.)

\- Right. So... What is. The kind of person. That you can't stand?

(I can't stand critics.) - I can't stand artists.

\- Oh, OK. Um... you first?

(Above all else, I hate critics that think they can just directly explain "the message", or "the meaning" of a piece of art. That...demands a very special kind of ego.)

\- *snicker*, so everyone should interpret art in their own way, huh?

(That's the only way we can really do this, right?)

\- Yeah. That's _exactly_ my problem with artists. I see art as a way for the creator to communicate a very specific message. It may not always be direct, especially because sometimes it just can't, which is why we have all the various art mediums. But artists that are considered "great" don't try to achieve as much clarity as possible. No, they thrive on "suggestion" and "many possible interpretations". It's a copout.  
If they said "I made this, but even I don't understand _why_ " or "I can't express it any other way", I'd be fine with this. Because there would still be the one 'true' interpretation.

(But just preaching to the audience is a pointless endeavor and they're not going to listen to you that way!)

\- WHY? Because without their precious interpretations, they wouldn't be able to twist and distort the work's true meanings for their own agenda?

(What the fuck are you talking about?)

\- Listen, Seth. All communication can be distorted by the receiver. Art, language, even the communication between the real world and people. _Especially_ that last one. Imagine two people seeing a war-torn country. Either directly, or through, let's say, a video game. Or a movie. The two people can exit that place and the first one could think "This is horrible, I'll dedicate my life to helping those hurt in such events, as well as try to prevent them", while the other could think "What a great way to make money! I'll try to personally profit from these kinds of wars as much as I can!". Now, do you think that both of their interpretations are "valuable"?

(I'd morally disagree with the latter, but...but that's just the human experience! We have these different interpretations of reality because we are all radically different people! It's not something we can prevent. Otherwise, we'd be just like...)

\- A _hivemind_? And here I thought I had a penchant for hyperbole. Of course you're right. That will always be the case. But why should that stop artists from trying to be as clear as they can possibly be? If anything, THAT should motivate them to be even more direct!

(What are we going to even gain from that?)

\- A knowledge of different views, dissenting opinions! Right now, people don't have to dig deep into art and discover the closest thing to "truth" that it contains! They can just find an "interpretation" that agrees with their preexisting worldview and never dig any deeper, because - well, I guess that's just their opinion, I guess we can't dictate how people should look at art, I gues eis kiiinda riiiight...

(But people can discuss their own interpretations and gain knowledge of dissenting opinions!)

\- Sure, they can. But what if _everyone's_ interpretation turns out to be completely wrong?

(I'm pretty sure that has never happened-)

\- I'm pretty sure it happens constantly, exactly because of our billions of interpretations. Everyone has some kind of an agenda. Everyone has a limited worldview they'd rather probably stick to.

(So do critics! Why do you love _them_ so much more? Why do you think they could be any less wrong in their analysis?)

\- Because their job isn't just to throw out their own interpretation. Anyone can do that. "Everyone's a critic", OK, but most people are shit at criticism. A _good_ critic will try to gain all the possible information about the artist and the work, as many interpretations of other people as possible and will pour over all of it for a long time. They'll use all of their critical skills, writing skills and knowledge. All in pursuit of the One. True. Meaning.

(But you know it's impossible to-)

\- _But the search itself is worthwhile!_

(Stop cutting me off! You're not Li!)

\- Do you think I haven't already heard all of the typical "all art is subjective" shit? I can recite it to you by heart. I KNOW there's actually no true meaning to anything, but that's exactly why we constantly try to create new meanings. I know there doesn't actually exist a perfect critic. But that doesn't mean the idealized picture of a perfect critic I created is useless. A search for perfection is the only way you can keep yourself on track with art!

(OK, is every little video that _you_ create a search for some perfect meaning and the truth of the universe?)

\- I never said anything about the truth of the universe. And I bet when you mean "perfect meaning", you're thinking "deep meaning". A very shallow interpretation can be just as perfect as a deep one. A shallow interpretation of a piece that's obviously not made with effort or skill _will_ be perfect. Ok, this is getting confusing...

(You know, I think I get you. We both know the same things, but you think it's worthwhile to endlessly search for objectivity and I think it's better to just accept subjectivity.)

\- Yeah, I guess we can agree to disagree there.

(But you know, talking about it brought another issue to my mind...)

\- What is it?

(What about the critic's own interpretation?)

\- What about it?

(They made the art, so- )

\- No they didn't. People don't make art.

(Oh, wow. I thought you'd say it's cause they're a different person.)

\- Well, I agree with that, too. But I might've said it wrong. It's more like, your left brain makes the art and the right brain tries to make sense of it. I know it's not like that at all, but...

(I get it. Metaphor. But doesn't that "right side" also work during the making of art?)

\- Kinda? You could say that subconscious thoughts are the "purest" form of art, but to convey it in an understandable and engaging way, you have to use your "right side" to "interpret" it in a way that-

(!)  
\- Oh, right!

-(Words betray thoughts!)

(Right. So I guess real art doesn't exist?)

\- Eeh, kinda. In the same way that you don't actually touch anything because of how atoms work. Perfectly real art can't be conveyed, but you can try to get as close as you can.

(Doesn't that seem...sad to you?)

\- Why should it? It's the same thing as with criticism. Perfection doesn't exist but has to be strived for anyways... Oh, wow, I think I finally got it! Yeah, that's basically what I tried to say this whole time!

(I guess. It's pretty obvious, though, isn't it?)

\- Well, you didn't come up with it first, did you?

Seth takes out a cellphone and swiftly types something in.  
(Noooooooooope... Vince Lombardi did.)  
He shows a wiki page of the popular American coach and points to one of the quotes on the side:

 _Perfection is not attainable, but if we chase perfection we can catch excellence._

\- Shit!


End file.
